Thursday, February 17, 2011


Back to it.
This first entry will me long, wild, and likely a bit awful, as its been a while.
Ive deleted all previous entries that were on this blog, as they no longer seemed relevant.
Starting fresh.
The past year has been wild, when I add it all up. I've aquirred, at 27 years old, my first real boyfriend. I've done a fair amount of traveling, enough that even I, queen of "get me the hell out of here, lets take a trip", has been fine being at home for a while. Sweden, Mississippi, Easter Island, Vegas a couple times, san francisco a handful, New Zealand. I've also lived three different places this year as well.
Somehow that entailed packing up my life in central Los angeles, and moving to Long Beach; as south as you can go while still living in Los Angeles County.
I moved to Long Beach in December. Ironic only to me, as that was to be the date that "single Olivia" was to go backpacking in Indochina for 6 months. I'd already taken steps, moving out of my second bachelorette pad in west hollywood (if those walls could talk), and moving in a friends house, known as "the commune", in order to make my escape to the Orient easier.
Or so I thought.
Enter, man.
I'd met him 6 years earlier on The only date I went on from that time, we'd gone out for a few months. He was the third person I ever slept with, we had fun times, and did fun things (like dropping everything and going to san francisco on our second date). But we were in different places in our lives, but remained friends.
In the six years that passed, he got engaged, built a career, I'd essentially a nervous breakdown, sowed many a wild oat and we evolved into different people.
Timing is everything.
So many times Ive met someone and just thought "if we met at another time, things would be different."
And its probably true.
But you rarely get that second chance. People move on. Lives move on.
When he came around again i was skeptical. Age, a traumatic relationship, and thousands of dollars of therapy had transformed me into someone who not only liked be alone, but preferred it. And I'm still learning how to be in a partnership.
But my New years resolution last year was to say "yes". Not only is saying no fucking boring, but its the perfect way to wake up on a random thursday 5 years from now wondering what the hell happened.

So I said yes to many things, including splitting the difference with a man from Orange County, the california equivalent of Texas (republicans and big hair), and we moved to Long Beach, speciffically Belmont Shore.

And I'll be dammed if I dont like it here.
I had been over L.A. for a while. I had fantasies of living in New Zealand one day, and still do. Being out of the center of the hussle wasnt really something I had to adapt to. I was ready.
I went to a Hollywood event last week.
A screening of a film thats out now, one of the worst films Ive seen in a long time.
It was the type of event you should go to. Mingle, schmooze.
I just lack the ability to bullshit for things like that.
I talked to a couple people, and wanted to throw-up.
The artifice is just something else.
People look you in the eye only until someone else walks by.
The movie started.
It was the worst thing Ive seen in a long time. So dumb it was insulting.
The audience was all there to be seen, and it was like watching a bad sitcom where the laugh track is turned way up. Roaring laughter at the smallest throw away joke, as if someone of importance was going to say "who's that amazing person with that amazing laugh?! We need to put them in our next film!"
I left with my friend after 15 minutes and ended up in a deli.
But I digress.
I have access to L.A. when I want it, and I can be on my patio a block from the ocean, like I am right now, when I dont.
I've realized its impossible to say how much I like it hear without sounding like a champion asshole/ hipster fuck.
People dont really get what goes on down here, and thats completely ok.
I love my old neighborhood, Ill always have an affinity for it, and I may live there again one day. Life is long.
But I go "into town" as I refer to it, and it feels dirty, it feels forced, and feel the way I used to feel when I'd come back from a long trip. Sort of a seeing it as the parody its played out as in movies and television shows.
Im amused when people turn their nose up at Long Beach.
I myself feel like Ive moved into a small town at times. There's a harmless town drunk of the corner that people know by name.There are constant banners up for community events. This month its a father/ daughter dance, last month it was a chocolate festival. There are constantly parades, theres an annual garage sale.
It can feel like the 1950's if the 1950's had pinkberry and a mohawked street performer and the end of my street.
People dont flaunt their money here, and they're sincere.
It doesnt matter that this month LA Magazine named this one of the top 3 hidden neighborhoods. Its just on mars as far as most people are concerned. And I feel no need to defend it.
There are people that want me to not like it. I like watching them squirm. Something new Ive learned: happy people want you to be happy. Ive never enjoyed even a strangers happiness so much in my life.

I still struggle at times wondering why we bother staying in one place at all, but thats a different conversation for a different time.
I'm going to be hear for awhile.
Its almost a guarantee, if life holds such a thing.
If things go as planned, I'll be opening a small business a 15 minute walk from my house.
Details to come.

This next year is going to be equally wild.

Welcome to the ride.

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